Swifty_Fox
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“It’ll be fun,” Marge says to him over the phone as he’s unpacking another box in his tiny, studio apartment. “I’ve been to a few other classes, it’s a good environment.”
“It doesn’t sound like my sort of environment, Marge,” Gale says, picking up an astrophysics textbook that pushes the bounds of what a single-handed grip is capable of. It strains the tendons in his wrist as he tries not to drop it on the way to its new home in the built-in bookshelf. The edges of it are bloated, almost rubbery with how many times it’s been painted over in the same shade of white, a few spots chipped away to show rich brown wood underneath.
“Your sort of environment is on a hill with a telescope, with nobody around.”
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He didn’t want to name it, because if he named it then he would have to acknowledge it. And if he acknowledged it he would have to do something about it.
This is John's end of the war.
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the long awaited Kingdom for a Kiss sequel
updates every other WednesdaySeries
- Part 4 of sonnet of the sweet complaint
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“Everything alright, Deputy?”
“Yeah, Tim, fine,” Raylan says, voice distinctly thick, “I got a question for you.”
Tim throws another shot of tequila, “Shoot.”
“Did you take my form?”
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or, the five times Tim, did Raylan Givens' paperwork, and the one time Raylan did Tim's
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“Do they know I’m divorced?”
“Christ, Buck,” John scoffs. “They’re not from the Dark Ages.”John brings Gale home for Christmas. A Dom Gale fic
Series
- Part 4 of everything and the kitchen sink
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Alone on thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?
Gale responds to a Cragislist ad after realizing he's facing Thanksgiving alone with his family. He can't quite decide exactly who's crazier; him or the guy who wrote the ad.
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"I got a young kid here, decorated sniper in Iraq war. Army Ranger. I don’t know how many kills he had. Always looking to kill somebody else. Probably got PTSD. Probably an alcoholic. Not a matter of if that powder keg is gonna blow but when."
That powder keg blew when Colton Rhodes killed Mark; Tim just did a good job of hiding it for a while. Until one night, a cowboy walked into a bar, and found a fugitive sitting next to the Lexington office's favorite sniper.
Tim's not okay, and Raylan is apparently incapable of leaving it alone.Set between seasons 4 and 5, largely based in events of season 4.
Bookmarked by Swifty_Fox
30 Dec 2025
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After two long years serving time for "degeneracy," Tim Gutterson is released from prison way Upstate with just a pack of Lucky Strikes and a couple of quarters to his name. It's enough for him to make a call to Raylan Givens, his benefactor of sorts, a man who took him under his wing when he first got to New York City armed only with his trumpet and a dream of becoming a real musician. Raylan took care of him once--would he do it again?
Bookmarked by Swifty_Fox
30 Dec 2025
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Raylan plugs at the hazard lights with two fingers. “You alright?”
The cadence makes it come out with the leveled candor of You Are Not Alright. Tim’s gaze flashes.
“Oh, I’m just peachy. Eager to get back home so I can go crosseyed and forget what I already did the slow work of burying, why? Car’s fucked?”
“You seem peckish.”
Tim’s knuckles tighten in their fist around the plastic handle. “I’m always peckish.”
Bookmarked by Swifty_Fox
30 Dec 2025
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"We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be –the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer – which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself."
-Farley Mowat
Never Cry Wolf: The Amazing True Story of Life Among Arctic Wolves"Happiness is a warm puppy.”
- Lucy from PeanutsSeries
- Part 2 of Cry Wolf
Bookmarked by Swifty_Fox
30 Dec 2025
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The road unspools in front of them as a strip of old film- washed out, grainy, flickering in places. Petrol stations with broken lights. Chain-link fences blooming with kudzu and barking dogs in their kennels for the night. The occasional pair of eyes flashing in the underbrush. Ain’t nothing between here and the turn of the road but hell-deep potholes and humidity thick enough to chew.
“You hungry?” Raylan asks after a long mile of nothing but engine noise and cricketsong. It’s a casual kind of question, stretched lazy across the dash, but he feels it lands heavier than it ought to.
Tim doesn’t answer right away. He’s staring out the window, cheek pressed to the glass like he’s trying to cool off something beneath the skin. Finally shrugs, eyes still fixed on the blur of trees.
“Could eat,” he says.
Bookmarked by Swifty_Fox
30 Dec 2025